


Before the Conclave

by ohnocantthink



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Family Feels, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnocantthink/pseuds/ohnocantthink
Summary: Samahla Lavellan says her goodbyes to her uncle, Danevhen, before he departs for the Conclave





	Before the Conclave

Danevhen retired for the night unusually early, only a few hours after the winter sun had dipped below the horizon, saying that he needed rest if he were to set off for the Conclave tomorrow. His father, Shiran, had nodded solemnly, tears still lingering his eyes, and tilted Danevhen’s head down to kiss his crown, just as he’d done when his son was still a boy. The truth of the matter was that Danevhen was ready to get away from his father, who swung like a pendulum between pride and worry for his son, and the Keeper, who still drilled him about every group that might be present at the Conclave, which ones should be avoided and which might be safely approached, and how to conduct himself.

As was his custom, he’d slung his hammock a short distance from the clan’s camp. While most of the elves slept in their aravels, he’d always found them stuffy and hot, and much preferred the low din of the forest to the all-too-elven sounds of his father’s snores and farts. He now lay on his back, ten feet above the ground, gazing up at the stars. It seemed everyone expected him to be frightened, but he wasn’t. Every nerve in his body thrilled at the thought of his task. A week from now, who knew what new sights he might have seen, what new knowledge he might have gleaned? Perhaps he would finally prove to the clan the value of having someone to liaison with humans and other races.

A scuffling caught his attention and he sat up, his sensitive eyes already adjusted to the dark of the night. A small, slim elf was painstakingly climbing the tree where he’d anchored the foot end of his hammock.

“Lathala?” he called softly, swinging his legs around to half sit up. The girl had joined their clan only weeks before, having fled from the noble she served in the city, and had been pursuing him relentlessly ever since, doubtless because the rest of the elves their age were already paired off. His attempts to convince her that she was wasting her time had fallen on deaf ears. When the woman reached the level of his hammock, however, it wasn’t Lathala. It was his niece Samahla, who was sixteen months his elder and who seemed to derive some strange satisfaction from using her position as First to make his life miserable.

“Nope,” he said when recognized her, half-heartedly throwing a pine cone in her direction. She let out a satisfying yelp of surprise.

“That’s hardly the way to comport yourself, Lethallin,” she said in that self-important tone, hauling herself into his hammock and settling in a sitting position, their arms touching as the shape of the hammock made them lean into each other. Danevhen tried to move away, but it was impossible in the confined space.

“Wait, shhh, do you hear that?” he asked in an urgent whisper.

“What?” his niece asked, discomfited.

“I think there’s a pretentious hedgehog in my hammock. Hear it squeaking?”

She crossed her arms, but for once, she wasn’t glaring at him. Instead she looked at the ground far below, swinging her legs to make the hammock gently rock.

“I had a dream about you.”

“That’s sick, ‘Mahla, I’m your uncle.”

“Be quiet and listen,” she snapped, and he complied, taken aback by her odd demeanor. “You were at this, this Conclave thing. It looked so real, I can see the hallway you were in, all this old stone and these strange shemlen designs on the walls. A man, a human, came running down the hall from behind you. He was huge, with dark hair shaved close to his head and an ugly scar on his face. You turned around, just with that stupid, stupid smile on your face, like you were expecting to see a friend. And he killed you, without a word, just ran straight through you with his sword and you were dead.” She stopped, running a hand over her face, which looked drawn and pale in the moonlight. “Everything’s wrong, Danevhen, can’t you feel it? Ever since the human mages rose up the world has been out of balance.”

Danevhen shifted, pulling both legs into the hammock so he sat cross-legged and could face his niece. “It was just a dream.”

“It wasn’t just a dream. I’m a mage, and therefore, when I dream I often find myself conscious in the Beyond,” she said, taking on that pedantic tone which always infuriated him. “Sometimes the spirits show me something I need to see. No non-mage like you can understand.”

“Maybe the spirits were just reflecting your fears,” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Or your wishes,” he added drolly.

“You think I wish you dead?” she asked, and after a moment’s pause, he shook his head. She wished him gone, maybe, but not dead. Samahla cared too much for her clan to wish harm upon even him. “The Keeper says that no mage can see the future, but it felt so real. Even if it wasn’t that, maybe I saw what I saw because humans have been murdering elves for ages. By now it has to be woven into the fabric of the Beyond as much as any other part of reality.” She drew her knees up, hugging them to herself. “You’ll be careful?”

“I’m always careful." He hesitated for a long moment. Years of resentment didn't fall away so easily, and he knew how hard it must have been for her to come to him tonight. "Samahla, thank you. I'm glad you told me about your dream.” He wrapped his arms around her impulsively, holding her for a brief moment before she could protest.

Samahla pressed something into Danevhen’s hand, closing his fingers around it. “Just in case,” she whispered. “May the creators keep you, Danevhen.”

After she’d climbed back down the tree and disappeared towards camp, Danevhen opened his hand, examining the carved-stone figure she’d placed there. It was a tiny owl, the symbol of Falon’din, to guide the dead through the Beyond.

 


End file.
